by K. Webster
“I want to be inside of you, baby girl,” I tell her between kisses.
She snuffs out my words when she deepens our kiss. One of my hands threads into her sexy-as-fuck hair that falls just past her shoulders. The other hand easily slides down the front of the elastic waistband of her shorts so that my fingers connect with her hot, throbbing clit.
“Ben!” she moans and tilts her head back.
I attack her neck with my lips and tongue, tasting the smooth skin there. Her panties are all but drenched, much to my delight, and I plunge two fingers deep inside of her. I use my thumb to circle her clit while I thrust my fingers in and out of her hot, wet center. She makes quick work of unfastening my jeans, and within seconds, they fall heavily to the floor. A few moments later, she frees my rock-hard dick from my boxers. Her soft hands feel like heaven as she strokes me, but I need more. I need her.
I break our kiss and pull my fingers out of her so that I can yank her shorts and panties to the floor, where she steps out of them, eager to be naked for me. Seconds later, that fucking camisole is gone too. She grabs the bottom of my T-shirt and pulls it off of me. My cock slides against her belly but it’s not enough. I fucking need her now.
I grab a handful of her ass with both hands and spread her cheeks apart. She moans again and I lose control. Quickly, I lift her by her bottom and push her against the wall. It isn’t until I’m about to slam into her that I realize I don’t have a condom on.
“Motherfucker!” I groan as my dick throbs—begging for me to push inside of her.
“What?” she gasps, tilting her hips to me, urging me to continue.
I reluctantly slide her back down to her feet while I fumble through my pants in search of my wallet. When I open it and realize that it’s empty, I slam it to the floor.
“Goddammit!”
She frowns at me in confusion.
“No condom,” I growl. I used the only two in my wallet last week when I was with her.
“No! Ask CJ,” she quips hopefully.
I grin at her and peck her lips. “Genius, baby girl.” Cracking the door open, I stick my head out. “CJ! Condom, now!” I order.
He shuffles over to my line of vision and shakes his head. “Sorry, dude. Just used my last one.”
I flip him off and angrily slam the door shut. Maya looks so fucking beautiful with her hair wild and eyes half glazed over from desire. When I give her a look of defeat, she smiles at me.
“I have an alternative, big boy,” she purrs.
Roughly, she pushes me against my chest so that I’m now pressed with my back against the door. She kneels down before me, and I widen my eyes as she grips my cock with both hands.
“I’m going to taste you now,” she informs me.
From this angle, I nearly come as she slides her warm mouth over my dick. Her dark hair falls forward, curtaining my cock on both sides. Her round ass jiggles and her tits bounce each time she bobs her head down. She’s a fucking glorious sight.
“Baby girl, you’re so good at this,” I groan appreciatively. And she is—so good.
I thread my fingers into her soft hair that I’ve discovered I love just as much as her sexy ass. She lets me guide her to the speed I like and takes me deep in her throat.
Her rough tongue slides along the underside of my shaft and occasionally circles the tip, creating a perfect formula for an impending epic climax. One of her hands slides down to caress my balls, and I curse again when she pushes a finger gently but firmly between my balls and toward my body. The girl knows what she’s doing, because I’ve never had a blow job feel so fucking amazing.
“Fuck!” I cry out.
All it takes is for her to take me deep into her throat again coupled with her finger between my balls to explosively come into her mouth. She easily swallows down everything I have to give, and I’m blown away by her mad blow job skills.
“Shit, woman. I’m afraid to ask how you learned to give such good fucking head.” And it’s true. If she says some ex-boyfriend or Miguel, I might punch a hole through the wall.
“Let’s just say I have an unhealthy addiction to my Tumblr app on my phone. They do some freaky, wild stuff on there and I take good notes.” She winks up at me.
We both realize at the same time that she’s admitted to having a phone that she hasn’t had this week. Panic flickers in her eyes, but I let it go. This time. Her mom probably took it away from her when she kicked her out. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck. All I care about now is returning the favor.
“Lie down on the floor,” I instruct.
Relief floods her features as she realizes that I’ve dropped the subject about the phone. She does as she’s told and I’m rewarded with a beautiful, dark-skinned goddess sprawled out and patiently awaiting my next move.
“Now spread those legs, baby girl. I’m going to make it up to you for not having a condom. You aren’t getting up off this floor until I’ve made you come with my tongue at least twice. So grab the backs of those sexy thighs and hold on because you’re about to be in for one helluva ride!”
EACH CURVE OF HIS MUSCLED chest glistens with a light sheen of sweat. Sweat I put there when I gave him the blow job of a lifetime. His eyes are determined as he drinks in the sight of me spread before him. When he licks his lips, eager to dive in, my pussy tightens in anticipation.
He drops to his knees, brings his face right to my hot center, and blows cool air that does nothing but make me hotter. It serves as a tease of what’s to come, and I shiver. His tongue drags along the inner part of my thigh until he reaches my knee and playfully bites. I let out a giggle, and he grins at me before dipping his head back down, this time his tongue connecting with my clit.
Almost lazily, he licks me between the lips of my pussy slow enough to make me crazy. I’m about to tell him to go faster when he sucks my clit into his mouth. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I tighten the grip on the back of my thighs and spread wider for him. He rewards me by slipping two long, thick fingers inside me, quickly followed by a third, filling me much like his cock would.
My hands find my breasts and finger my nipples as he keeps thrusting his own fingers in and out of me. His mouth devours my sensitive spot and I feel my entire body go taut. He knows just how to drive me insane, and within moments, I’m screaming out his name.
When I’m finished convulsing from my all-consuming orgasm, he pulls out his fingers and climbs on top of me. I know we can’t have sex, but I want this skin-to-skin contact as much as he seems to. He presses his chest against mine and rests on his elbows, which are on either side of me. His lips find mine and he kisses me slowly. I’m completely turned on as I taste myself on his lips.
His cock is now flaccid and pressed between us. We’re lying here on the floor of an office in the middle of the ghetto, completely wrapped up in each other’s presence. When we’re together, nothing else matters. I’m blown away how easy it is to forget Miguel, my job, the law—and only focus on his smell, taste, skin, voice.
“I want you to stay with me,” he says softly between kisses.
My heart thrums to life. I’m torn because knowing where he lives will be a critical piece of information for our case. But sleeping in his bed, cuddling with him, seems like perfection. I want him to make love to me slowly and unrushed. Right now, with him protectively on top of me, I want nothing more than to be with him. Gathering evidence for the case seems unimportant to me. I’m quickly losing a grip on my job and for once focusing on my needs—and right now, I need this man like I need air.
“Tonight? I want to make love all night—no interruptions—in a comfy bed rather than on desks and shitty carpet. Your bed better be comfortable or I’ll change my mind,” I tease with a laugh.
His eyes darken and he frowns down at me. “Not tonight, baby girl. I’ve got some shit I need to take care of, but tomorrow night, your ass is in my bed. Got it?”
I nod, and he kisses me again. I can’t help the pang of disappointment that stings m
e right away. I’m willing to sacrifice the duties of my job, but he blows me off a lot for his. Biting my lip, I glance away to avoid his stare. It seems stupid that I want to cry over something so silly.
His hand strokes my cheek. “You’re upset with me.”
Now I really am getting upset and shake my head unconvincingly. But my voice seems like it would be traitorous and give me away, so I keep quiet.
“Maya, look at me,” he gently instructs. The concerned look in his eyes causes tears to fill my eyes, and I feel like a crazy person. “What’s wrong?”
A tear slips out, and I try to smile. “I just really wanted to spend some time with you. But I get it. You have an important job to do. Don’t worry about me. I’m just a hormonal girl,” I laugh.
He doesn’t laugh back and narrows his gaze at me. “Maya, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”
I’m already shaking my head no again. “No, I want you.”
Dipping down, he kisses my lips again. “How old are you?”
It’s almost laughable that we’ve been so physically and emotionally connected but we know nothing about one another. I’ll do my best to give him what information I can. He deserves that much.
“Twenty-six.”
He smiles and rewards me with his age. “I’m twenty-eight. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I shake my head at him. “Nope. Just me. What about you?”
“Just me and Grammy,” he replies sadly.
“Where are your parents?”
This time, tears fill his eyes and I feel sick to my stomach. “They were killed by a drunk driver when I was twelve.”
“Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry. My daddy was killed when I was a little girl.” His look is one of sympathy but also one of understanding. We have a mutual level of pain, and that instantly draws us closer together.
Suddenly, he tenses from above me. “Wait—you said you ran away from your parents? But now you’re telling me your dad is dead?”
I nearly choke from being caught in a lie but quickly recover. “Stepdad.”
He exhales sharply in relief, but my heart is still pounding a hundred miles per hour. Thankfully, he continues on with his harmless questions.
“What are your interests? What do you do for fun?”
I smile at him. The guys at the station, Miguel included, always give me shit about what I’m about to tell him, but I don’t care. I love it.
“I’m an active member of the National Genealogy Society. In college, I took some genealogy courses and became addicted to learning about my ancestors. My friends give me shit about it all the time. I’ve researched all of their family lines,” I giggle.
He smiles broadly at me but then quickly drops it. “You went to college? Did you finish and get a degree?”
Shit. I seem to tell him too much truth and he’s so damn perceptive.
“Uh, yeah.”
He glares at me, knowing that I’m avoiding the subject. “Which part?”
“Both,” I sigh. He’ll ask the next question and I will have to lie on this part. There’s no way in hell I’m telling him what my degree really is in. Telling your drug-dealer lover that you’ve got a degree in law enforcement seems like a bad idea.
“Might I ask in what? What is a smart, sexy girl like you doing on this side of town selling drugs for me? You could be doing anything other than this shit right now.” He seems angry, and my heart pounds anxiously in my chest.
“Um, business. The economy is bad,” I lie. Expecting him to demand the truth, I brace myself for it. But what he does instead breaks my heart.
“Fucking liar. Unbelievable,” he snaps and lifts up off of me. He begins quickly pulling on clothes while I scramble to my feet.
“Ben, please. Just let that part of my past go. It isn’t worth knowing.” I try and grab his shoulder.
He wrenches away from me and shakes his head. “More fucking lies. It isn’t that your past isn’t worth knowing. It’s that you want to hide it from me. I’ve only ever been honest with you since day one. My mantra is ‘DON’T LIE,’ yet you fucking do it anyway. I’m out,” he grumbles as he buttons his jeans and slides into his shoes.
Standing there, naked, before him, I tearfully watch him grab his shirt and leave me alone. As much as I want to tell him, I just can’t. The outcome from the truth would have been worse. I feel absolutely gutted right now.
Last night was a nightmare. After Ben left, I showered and lay in my bed, spending all night doing a little soul-searching. Our argument only served to clarify that I am a delusional bitch. I let my hormones get in the way of my job once again. But I am done. He never came back for me, and I haven’t seen him at all today.
Just like every day so far, I accept my supply from CJ and head outside to walk the streets. Normally, I cut between houses until I meet up with Miguel or Jake on a side street and swap the load of drugs for the required money. After that first night, I was able to sneak in and call him the next day. We’ve been going through this routine ever since. Each time, Miguel begs me to just turn in what I have so Sommerhaul will let me come back to the station. Of course, I know I need to find Oculus’s location and where they keep the bulk of their drugs. If they’ll leave me alone, I’ll find out eventually.
I’m walking out of the alleyway when a familiar voice stops me.
“Where you headed, Ghetto Barbie?” Tameka demands. She’s got her backpack on, just like me, full of today’s load of drugs.
“None of your business, Bitch Face,” I snap back at her. I’m grouchy today after having had my blowup last night with Ben.
“I bet you’re running over to Blaze,” she taunts.
Ignoring her, I stomp past her and continue on down the sidewalk. I’ve only made it a few steps when she yanks my hair and pulls me back. My first response is to fight back, and since I don’t have to impress Ben anymore, I take out my anger on her.
“You won’t quit, you fucking bitch,” I snarl as I spin around and grab her neck.
We stumble and fall onto the sidewalk, skinning elbows in the process. She tries to punch me, but she punches like a damn sissy. However, when I straddle her and punch her in the face, she screams because I fucking punch hard. Her fingers scratch at my arms as she attempts to make me stop hitting her, but I’m beyond stopping.
I’ve just began choking her out again when two strong arms effortlessly rip me of her. When I recognize the smell of the person who yanked me away, my heart races in a panic. He spins me around to face him, and I’m now looking at one of Detroit PD’s finest—Miguel Lopez.
His look tells me to be quiet and go with the flow. I nod my head slightly, indicating that I understand. Jake has already pulled Tameka to her feet. I can’t help but grin when I see her bloodied nose. Damn bitch deserved it.
“What are you two ladies doing in the middle of the day fighting on the sidewalk?” Miguel asks.
Of course, Bitch Face tries to pin it on me. “I was walking along, minding my own business, when this cunt attacked me,” Tameka lies.
I roll my eyes over at her and flip her off.
Miguel studies each of us and zeroes his gaze in on her backpack.
“What’s in the backpacks?” Miguel asks, nodding his head to each of us.
This time, the bitch has the brains to shut the fuck up. She looks terrified.
“Nothing,” I tell him convincingly.
He shakes his head at me. “I’m going to need the both of you to remove your backpacks and set them down in front of you. Thread your fingers together and place them on top of your head,” Miguel instructs.
We both do as we’re told, and Tameka nervously keeps eyeing her backpack. Miguel keeps his attention trained on us while Jake, with a stupid fucking smirk on his face, kneels down in front of them. He goes through mine first and immediately locates my daily supply of cocaine.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Someone’s going to jail,” he taunts as he holds up a handful of baggies all filled with blow.
<
br /> I ignore him while he moves on to the next bag.
Tameka begins to cry when Jake chokes out, “Holy shit, this thing is full! Darlin’, you’re going to jail for a long time.”
I snap my head over to the backpack that is, indeed, full of coke and my mouth gapes open. How in the fuck did she get so much? Did she steal more? This bitch has been working with Blaze? Hell no.
Breaking my position, I once again tackle her. She’s sobbing, and her fight against me is mild at best. I only get a few punches on her when Jake rolls me off of her and onto my stomach. He forces his knee against my ass as he pins me to the pavement while he cuffs me. Fucking cuffs me!
“Let me go!” I scream at him, my cheek roughly scraping the sidewalk. When he digs his knee harder into my ass, I cry out and tears pour from my eyes.
“Not so rough,” Miguel warns menacingly.
Jake ignores him and stands, jerking me up to my feet. He forcefully walks me to the car and I stumble a few times along the way. Miguel is much nicer as he cuffs Tameka and reads her her rights. Fucking Jake doesn’t even put up false pretenses in reading me mine. He’s too eager to get me pressed against the car to search me.
“Such a naughty girl,” he whispers as his hands begin their slow assault along my body. He makes sure to grab a handful of my ass as he ‘searches’ for more drugs. “I miss this sweet ass. Don’t you miss fucking me?”
God, I fucking hate him. And when I’m not in such a precarious position, I’m filing a complaint to internal affairs. I try to ignore him as his hands slide around to my front and grab my breasts. From the corner of my eye, I can see Miguel busy with Tameka—and she’s getting professional treatment, unlike me.
When his disgusting hand cups me between my legs, I fucking lose it. “Goddammit, motherfucker. Get your fuckin’ hands off of me!”
